


The road to hell is paved with love

by Elzo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Derek Hale is a Failwolf, Druid Stiles Stilinski, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, F/M, He'll get better maybe, Isaac-centric, M/M, Multi, Stiles Stilinski-centric, because you need to learn to be good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elzo/pseuds/Elzo
Summary: “I... I told you things I never told anyone, Ice.” something broke in curly haired teen’s heart at the sound of what stupid nickname. “Not to my dad, not even Scott. Things I thought I will take to the grave with me. And you just… threw them back into my face like casual insults. The things...” Stiles swallows, trying to hold the valve of his emotions. “Things I did for you... Things I allowed you to do to me... I placed most vulnerable and sacred parts of myself in your care, Isaac. And you just used them for your entertainment. Plunged your fangs into them and feasted on them. And then you threw me away, like... like a broken toy?”





	1. Breaking point

**Author's Note:**

> Greeting everyone, who read this =)
> 
> So inspired by other archive writers, I decided to try my own at this fanfic business. I sharpened my English skills, learned a few tricks and dug into the work.  
> I ended up with coherent plans for 5 different stories and around a chapter or two written for each. Sometimes it's a starting one. Sometimes it's an interesting plot point which I hope doesn't spoiler everything)
> 
> So my plan is to upload those chapters/pen tests here and see how many people will want too read them.  
> And if one of those ideas, executed in my writing will attract enough people, I will be motivated enough to write it. Cause I'm a lazy ass and attention whore (hey I admit my flaws!)  
> Also maybe attract a beta reader. Gods, I need one. And a slave rider, so he can hit me with a bamboo stick and make me write.
> 
> So yeah read and tell me what you think. I really need feedback at this point. Even the bad one. Even horrible one. Help with tags would be appreciated a lot
> 
> I apologize in advance if Summary or tags mislead you. Things mentions will appear in the story. It's my first work. Don't kill me =(
> 
> PS: This is not the first chapter of this story. It will start well... at the start of Season 2.

Isaac didn't really understand what are they doing here. He didn't trust Scott. Didn't trust this stranger. To be honest, Deaton was freaking him out.  He felt wrong. Not like other people. And this mysterious pressure which fell upon him the moment he entered the clinic. It made his skin itch. He was allowed entry out of some courtesy but wasn't truly welcomed. Or at least that's how it felt. The fact that the Alpha also didn't look very comfortable, didn't help. So he turned to the only coping mechanic he can think of.  
  
“Soo... you're Stilinski's magical consultant?” Isaac asked the host of this meeting with a cocky grin and smiling eyes, carefully hiding his true feelings under a mask. “A witch of some kind?”  
  
“No, I'm a veterinarian.” the man replied, pausing the examination of a jar he was holding for a moment, to make eye contact with the teen. Isaac tried to come up with a reply but was unable scramble enough words for that. This man clearly was more than just a vet. The teen was sure that he was the one who taught Stiles… _No. He is NOT thinking of Stiles!_ all those tricks and stunts he pulls off. And everyone in the room knew it. That’s the reason Derek wanted to meet him, right? Cause the man knew something about Jackson the Kanima. Was this man hiding something?  
  
But before Isaac can delve deeper into his conspiracy theories, the vet finished assessing his arrangement of herbs filled jars and provided them with a very unhelpful “Unfortunately, I don't see here anything which going to be an effective defense against a paralytic toxin.”

“We're open to suggestions,” Derek replied with the most pleading eyes Isaac ever saw on the man’s face. His Alpha was clearly aware of who or what the ‘just a veterinarian’ is. And that made Isaac want to cry. It felt like everyone except him in this room knew something that was obvious to everyone. 'Well, Derek knows better' he hoped.

 

“What about an effective offense?” Isaac questioned. Maybe there was some mystic sleep pill in one of these jars, who knows.  
“We already tried offense.” Derek interrupted the beta. “I nearly took its head off, and Agrent emptied an entire clip into it. That thing just gets back up.”  
“Well, maybe professor Snape here can provide us with something better than those useless 'magical napalm' powder or those black dust magic shields?” Isaac shot his Alpha irritated glare, without really thinking about it.  
  
“Are you saying that a purplish-red concoction, that Mr. Stilinski nicknamed Satan's kiss had no effect on Jackson?” Deaton asked before the blonde beta can delve on the thought that he just openly snapped at his very easily angered Alpha, and throw himself into a panic attack about it. Wich almost threw Isaac into another panic attack, because he clearly smelt fear and shock creeping into vet's scent. By the surprise, displayed on Scott's face, crooked jaw omega wasn't even aware his boss had the ability to feel such emotions.  
  
Derek visibly tensed clearly unnerved by the man's reactions. “He threw it right into Kanima's face. It didn't even blink. Mountain Ash line he laid broke after a few minutes of its assault.”  
“You react as if that dust was supposed to melt that lizard's face away.” Isaac couldn't help himself and shut up. He realized he was getting snarky and irritating, but it was better than looking weak and scared in front of all these people. Derek leveled him with an angry glare which didn't promise anything good in the future before Deaton could reply.  
  
“No. Not melt away. But should your skin come in contact with it, Mr. Lahey, the most likely result would be third-degree burns which would have taken hours, if not days to heal.” The vet said with returned calm and composure in his voice, as if he didn't just reveal, that Sheriff's kid is walking around town with chemical weapons in his pocket. “The fact that the solution had no effect on Jackson, or the ease he broke through the mountain ash barriers... is unnerving.”  
  
Before they can continue their discussion, all three shifters present in the room turned toward the parking lot with mixed emotions finding their way onto their faces.  
“What it is?” Deaton asked.  
  
“That's Roscoe,” Scott replied. When Deaton raised a questioning brow, teen sighed and explained, “That's Stiles' Jeep name.”  
  
“Did you invite Stilinski here?” Derek looked locked his eyes with Scott’s, a mix of confusion and irritation radiating from the broody Alpha.  
  
“I didn't!” Scott emotions shifted from surprise to sadness, regret, and anger. “And even if I did, he wouldn't have come!”  
  
A million contradicting thoughts rushed through Isaac's head while other two weres started arguing. He was lost. It would be the first time he saw Stiles since _that_ day. If you don't count school, where both pretended the other doesn't exist, or life-or-death moments where they either were trying to maim something (sometimes each other) or were running away from something.  
He had no idea what to do. Should he run? He wanted to run. Running was a good way to ignore problems. No Stiles - no need to deal with the problem. But he also wanted to stay. More than anything Isaac wanted to rush towards to the door and... and what?  
Say hi? Drop to his knees and beg? Say something nasty with a smirk on his face? Grab him by the front of his shirt and kiss him senseless? Isaac was at a loss. He didn't know what to do.  
  
So he just stood frozen, staring into the doorway, lost to his thoughts, while the other two shifters were too busy arguing to notice his state. Or that the cause of the argument has entered the clinic.  
  
“Hey, Doc, can I borrow your book on the herbal...” the teen almost fell, when he tripped on his own feet at the sight of Deaton's guests. Stiles clearly didn't expect to find anyone here but Deaton, judging by the look of a deer caught in headlights he was spotting.  
  
Room visibly tensed. It looked like shadows became darker, even solid. And the weird pressure suddenly doubled, as if the building was reacting to Stiles' conflicting feelings. The emotional stench, which was radiating of the newcomer started flooding the room, provoking werewolves present to react to in with their own emotions, which only added to the unease.  
  
Room settled into silence as Stiles' eyes traveled from one of Deaton's guest to the other, with no readable emotion in them, until the host decided that enough time was wasted.  
  
“I don't think you can improve on the current formula, Stiles,” veterinarian said in a calm voice which sounded so odd in a room where tension was so thick, you can probably cut it with a sharp enough knife. He continued talking while he retrieved several worn out textbooks from one of the cabinets. “But I believe you can look into a couple of my journals for a different solution.”  
  
That snapped Stiles out of whatever trance the boy fell into upon entering the room. “Yeah, apparently it doesn't fall under same rules as were... but I suppose you already know that. I mean, Derek or Isaac...” his heart made a weird sound the moment he said young shifter's name, “most likely told you. Em…Thanks, I guess. I’ll tell you if I come up with anything... efficient.”  
  
Stiles carefully took offered books as if they can bite him. He crossed eyes with Isaac’s and teen's hazel eyes became warm, like two little lakes of molten chocolate. His entire expression softened. For a second Stiles looked at him as if he was the best thing in the world, second only to his father and curly fries.  
 It didn't last as memories of his more recent event reminded about themselves. And those lakes froze, becoming cold and sharp as a pair of diamonds, slicing into Isaac's soul by the feel of it. Stiles' posture tensed as he quickly muttered goodbyes and run out of the clinic.  
  
It was at this moment, Isaac finally broke out of his trance.  
  
“Stiles!”  
  
He didn't hear Derek calling his name, as he rushed after the other teen. He didn't know what he'll do. He just didn't want Stiles to leave. He caught on to the escapee as he was trying to get into his Jeep.  
  
Without really thinking, Isaac grabbed Stile's by the arm holding the books and pulled him, making him turn 180 degrees. Brown eyed teen was forced to let go of Deaton's books and grab Isaac's shoulder for balance by the other.  
He looked with surprise and shock as old, worn out, one of a kind texts dropped on the ground, still wet and a little muddy after the rain. Stiles' held his breath and stared at the fallen books as if they were a Holy Grail, which just fell into a volcano. That big brain of his was clearly out of commission at the moment, unable to process all the variables around him, from Isaac's hold on his wrist to the possibly ruined books at his feet.  
  
“Stiles?” the tall teen asked, leaning closer a little to look into the other boys' eyes as if those hazel orbs contained answers to every question he had.  
  
 That broke Stiles out of his trance. He quickly let go of Isaac's shoulder, as if it was burning him and took a step back. His back was now hard pressed against his car, furious brown eyes locked with confused blue ones.  
  
“What the fuck do you want, Lahey?” He sneered with absolute hate in his voice.  
  
Isaac still didn't have an answer to that. He didn't know what to do. He was lost in a whirlpool of emotions radiating from Stiles. It was making him dizzy. So, he just stood there, looking like a lot puppy.  
  
“You know what? I don't care!” the teen broke the eye contact and kneeled to pick up the books. “I don't have time or nerves, or desire to deal with you!”  
  
“What's your problem, Stiles? Stop acting like...”  
  
Stiles looked up, meeting Isaac's eyes yet again.  
“What's my problem?” He slowly stood up without breaking eye contact.  
“What's MY problem?! You... YOU! Just! I!... You are the one who rushed after me! YOU! The one who...” his breath clinches. His limbs fluttered in every direction. Eyes began to water, and just no. No!  
  
Stiles won't give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, stalling his mental breakdown. He’ll still break. Just not here. Right now, Stiles must stand his ground.  
  
After a few seconds, he opened his eyes again, and whatever they were showing to anyone looking into them right now, made Isaac take a step back.  
  
“You don't get to act like this, Isaac,” Stiles says with a calm, emotionless voice.  
  
“You don't get to act like you are the offended party here. You’re the one who publicly humiliated me in front of the whole school. You are the one who dumped me without any explanation.”  
  
Isaac tried to breathe in, to make a coherent sentence in his mind to say. But before he could muster enough brain power for that, Stiles continued.  
  
“I... I told you things I never told anyone, Ice.” something broke in curly haired teen’s heart at the sound of what stupid nickname. “Not to my dad, not even Scott. Things I thought I will take to the grave with me. And you just… threw them back into my face like casual insults. The things...” Stiles swallows, trying to hold the valve of his emotions. “Things I did for you... Things I allowed you to do to me... I placed most vulnerable and sacred parts of myself in your care, Isaac. And you just used them for your entertainment. Plunged your fangs into them and feasted on them. And then you threw me away, like... like a broken toy?”  
  
“That's not what I wan…” Isaac tried to protest but was silenced by a raised hand.  
  
“That is what you wanted, Ice. You said it yourself. Told me to get lost and… what was the exact phrase? Something like 'go kneel in front of someone else. You know, there's a lot of people who'd want a little, perverted whore like you'?” he looked at Isaac as if expecting him to say something. After a few seconds of silence, he continued to speak in the same cold, detached tone. “You know I still have you claw marks from the last time I was your little, perverted whore. Still healing. Yours... how did you call them… _marks_. The ones which you made me beg for. I look in the mirror every day and see them. I'm tired, Isaac. I just want to forget this chapter of my life as if it never existed. If you hate me so much... just... just pretend you don't know me. Don't see or hear me or something. It works well in school.”  
  
Stiles eyes exhaled loudly, and under unseeing gaze from Isaac, crawled into his Jeep, carefully left the parking lot. He gave the other teen one last look and dashed at maximum speed away from the clinic.  
  
Isaac doesn't know how long he stood there until Derek dragged him back inside the building.  
  
  
****************************************  
  
  
He can't go on. He's gonna freak out. He is gonna break into a weeping mess any second. Or have a panic attack. Or both. He needs to stop the car!  
  
Tires screech against road's surface as if Roscoe protests against such violent abuse it's old and gentle parts. Stiles doesn't care. He needs air. He needs to get out.  
  
His legs give in as soon as they touch the road, and Stiles collapses onto the ground, by sheer miracle falling backward into a sitting position.  
He can't stand up. He can't breathe. Tears rush down his face.  
He's suffocating both physically and mentally. God, he is so weak. Pathetic. All it took for him to break is to exchange a few words, Isaac. No wonder he dumped him. He should have...  
  
“Hey, are you okay?” Stiles hears someone asking.  
  
The voice sounds familiar. And young. Great, just what he needs. A peer to see him like this to throw more fuel into the fire of school's rumor mill tomorrow.  
  
“You're freaking out, pal. Can... Can you look at me please?”  
  
Against the protests of his brain, which was still half-paralyzed by a panic attack, he timidly looks up. Tear-filled hazel eyes meet a pair or concerned ice blue ones.  
  
“Stiles...I remember correctly right? You need to breathe.” the cute stranger from AP calculus kneels in front of him without breaking eye contact. He slowly moves forward, as if afraid to scare off a wild animal, and places his arms at Stiles' shoulders.  
“This is just a panic attack, Stiles. You need to take a deep breath and relax.”  
  
Stiles shakes his head violently as he tries to tell the guy something between lung-crushing gasps for air. “No, It... won't help me, I... Ah... need to hold... my...”  
  
The stranger leans a little closer, holding the other teen in place with a surprisingly strong grip.  
  
“Then just hold your breath.”  
  
“I...” a violent spasm in his stomach makes him flinch “can't... I can't.”  
Oh god, he's hyperventilating. He's about to pass out. In the middle of the road. In the arms of someone, he barely knows. And... okay why do his lips fill warm suddenly?  
  
By the time Stiles' brain catches up to the fact that the guy is kissing him, the black-haired boy is already pooling away, with worry written on his face as he looks at Stiles, waiting for some reaction. It took Stiles a good minute to process what just happened.  
  
“You... you kissed me,” he asks him quietly.  
  
The teen looks quizzically at him, with mischief dancing in his ice-blue eyes.  
“Well, I thought that I can stop you from passing out by sealing your mouth shut and shocking you a little,” the calculus stranger provides, with a shit eating grin making it way on his face “And if I can steal a kiss from a cute guy while I'm at it, then it's win-win. Don't you think?”  
  
Stiles gapes at him. Then the stranger's words sink in and his lips curl up a little. And a little more. And then he breaks into a burst of uncontrolled laughter. His savior doesn’t last long and soon joins Stiles. He doesn't remember how long this lasted. He only stops when it’s literally hurting to keep laughing.  
  
Stiles shoots a shy smile to the other teen. “Thanks,” he says with a quiet voice, “I needed that. Really.”  
  
The stranger just winks at him and pats him on a shoulder. “It's okay. I'm just glad I was able to help.” he looked questionably at Stiles “Are you sure you're okay?”  
  
 “Yeah. I'm fine now thanks.” Stiles replied with a blush creeping onto his cheeks.  
  
“Well, in this case, I better get going,” the calculus stranger (okay Stiles really need a better name for him) replies cheerfully as he starts to walk down the street, “some of us aren't smart enough to be straight A students without studying.”  
  
“Hey, calculus guy, wait!”  
  
The blue-eyed boy turns around and raises a questioning brow at Stiles.  
“Out of all things, you make a point of the fact that we share a class?”  
  
“Well maybe if I knew your name, I would have called you by it. So maybe you can tell me?” Stiles asked sheepishly, his blush deepening, crawling down his neck.  
God, he kissed a guy and he doesn't even know his name.  
  
“Why don't you figure my name out, Stiles? You're smart enough for that. And I like smart people.” the guy licked his lips, which are twisted in a cocky smile.  
  
“Tell you what - figure out my name and I'll take you on a date!” he laughed as he turns around the corner and disappears from sight.  
  
A few moments later, Stiles tries to make a smile go away because his face is hurting from smiling already.  
Well, at least Stiles have things to look to now.  
Maybe he can start writing a new chapter of his life much sooner than expected. Because it still hurts like hell around his heart.


	2. Not update/Exuses

So okay... I know how this will REALLY piss off all 5 people who want this story to go on. But point is, I reread all I wrote for this story while I was in the hospital... and I kinda hated it.   
The quality of writing, the story.  
It's understandable of course. That is my first work in English, so it's quality is questionable...  
So I decided to first finish my other story, whose current draft I really like.  
I don't know how long it will take until I'm back here. But hopefully soon.  
Sorry again. But be sure I'm not dropping this story. Period. The draft is there. I just need to feel like I am ready to edit it into a very good story.

PS - you are allowed to yell and call me names in comments for this.


	3. I need a slaverider/beta reader.

That is no joke. I NEED IT.  
That's the only way this will work. Unless someone steps up and like harrases me on Whatsapp or Facebook 2 times a day, this fic (and every other I have/will have) is dead.  
I have like written buttload of things this month, but guess what? Not continuation of these two works!  
I have the attention span of an aquarium fish. I can't even make myself write for prolong time and find 100500 excuses not to and instead play fucking Stellaris or EVE.  
I really need a person to monitor and poke me. Someone, please step up.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I worked out I way to make this actually the first chapter. Hope you like it. Also sorry for everyone who were misled by the fact that FORGOT TO ADD THE MAIN PAIRING INTO TAGS! facepalm


End file.
